Topics - Kingnoname1

Symbol: A large hammer striking an even larger crystal formation of dust, crudely drawn like like it was etched into stone by a hammer and chisel.

Occupation: ‘Dustsmith’ or Craftsman extoridinare, Mercenary.

Appearance: A mountainous form, getting close to nine feet tall encased in a golden set of armour of the finest make blocks any attempt to view the Dustsmith’s true form. Mostly animated by their semblance and ‘mundane’ robotics the Dustsmith’s armoured form shines a brilliant gold caped with rich reds and purples it exudes unmatched royalty and power. That is, of course, the point but what is designed into the armour is even more striking than the colour palette, animal motifs, hundreds of them. Some large, the front half of a wolf and lion make up the shoulder plates as well as an open dragon maw dominate the chest plate. However, for every massive design, there are dozens only noticeable under close inspection. Including flocks of tiny birds under the Dustsmith’s cloak and thin snakes which flow down the arms.

Never seen outside their armour details about body posture or what not are completely unknown but the Dustsmith regularly stands so still that others think them a statue, a mistake the Dustsmith encourages crafting golems which look identical to him. The only physical characteristic the Dustsmith shares publicly are their voice, a strangely androgynous and soft timbre which when combined with the Dustsmith’s tendency of referring to themselves in the third person means even making conclusions about their gender almost impossible. Despite the heavy armour the Dustsmith coats themselves in it never seems to hamper their manoeuvrability resulting in far more limber movements than one would expect from a fully armoured knight. This continues all the way to manual dexterity, meaning that the Dustsmith is capable of intricate movements like origami even with armoured gauntlets.

History: The stories surrounding the Dustsmith are some of the oldest in Mistral if not all of Remnant. For as long as humans and Faunus wandered Anima a figure calling themselves the Dustsmith followed, offering their crafts against the encroaching Grimm or other tribes. As the name suggests, Dustsmith, these works often took the form of dust powered machinery and weapons. Incredibly primitive by today's standard but at the time they were the bleeding edge of weapons technology providing massive advantages to those with the Dustsmith’s favour. And the Dustsmith was clear on how to gain their favour, trade. Offers for the Dustsmith’s latest creations kept increasing resulting in them become one of the richest individuals on the continent. With that money, the Dustsmith trained apprentices as well as bought dust and metals in even higher quantities than before. But money like any form of success draws jealousy and as the Dustsmith never seemed to care what their weapons were used for many, quite rightfully, started to see them as a disruptive force. And so one night the original Dustsmith was killed in their sleep along with most of their apprentices and all their projects were destroyed.

Although the rich grieved at the loss of such powerful weapons the common man rejoiced to hope that the Dustsmith’s death would result in a new era of peace. And they were right in a way only helped by the Dustsmith returning. Clad in heavy robes and a mask of incredible likeness to the original Dustsmith this new craftsman took up their master’s work, name and ruined workshop. This new Dustsmith had learned an important lesson from their fallen master, a responsibility of a sort and they began caring more about what their weapons were used for. And so the new Dustsmith vanished as quickly as they appeared, appearing occasionally at major markets or the courts of local warlords to offer their wares only to those would unify the land rather than divide it. Staying on the move meant protection from their fellow humans even if it exposed them more to the Grimm it also made it harder to train apprentices. As such it came to pass that only one could be comfortably fed and taught the thousands of lessons it took to become a Dustsmith in such conditions.

Such the title passed down from master to apprentice, from Dustsmith to Dustsmith unbroken until the modern day. Many Mistrali believe the core code resulting in Atlas’s battle droid technology came from the Dustsmith as well as transforming weapons and dozens of dust variations over the centuries. Those centuries have done a lot to whitewash the Dustsmith’s actions, Mistral, particularly leading up to the greyed war hero-worshipped the Dustsmith. Seeing them as the perfect pure craftsman, making beautiful and terrible works simply for the act of creation. An aspiration that the art-focused nation rallied behind and remains a majority position to this day.

Keeping secrets are much harder in modern times than before the formation of kingdoms and all major factions have a vested interest in keeping an eye on such enigmatic figures like the Dustsmiths. Around ten years ago the Dustsmith took the physical form they keep to this day, leading analysts to assume that this is when the apprentice took over from their master. A reasonable assumption considering at the same time the Dustsmith’s dealing took a more abstract outlook. The preceding Dustsmith had been as predictable as their kind got, limiting their sales to huntsmen and huntresses as well as the occasional Atlas Specialist or military officer. There was even talk about making the Dustsmith an official position within Mistral, returning to a state not unlike the original although hopefully less disruptive. Specifics of what caused negotiations to break down are unclear but it seems the current Dustsmith is nothing like their master.

Although many huntsman and huntresses are still sold weapons by the Dustsmith so are mercenaries and more worryingly bandits and even the White Fang are ending up having far too many of such weapons for it to only be looting. The figures legendary status means Mistral is incapable of massively shifting their public position on the Dustsmith without a loss of face, although the other kingdoms aren’t so trapped and independent hunters are constantly looking for clues. To buy from or to arrest depending on the individual. Although it is definitely a change compared to the previous Dustsmith there has been disruptive Dustsmith’s before but what has made this new figure so difficult to deal with is the deals they are making. No longer satisfied with lien or raw materials the Dustsmith has begun demanding rarer and rarer materials, often involving illegal actions. Adding further uneasy whenever a new Dustsmith weapon appears in the hands of an apparent upstanding member of society, it speaks to there quality that it hasn’t seemed to reduced demand much. Perfectly legal weaponsmiths capable of creating technological marvels are rare and expensive but those aren’t impossible obstacles for Huntsman and huntresses to overcome but there is always something more with the Dustsmith’s creations. Centuries of crafting weapons for defenders of humanity, and the occasional criminal, is passed down to every Dustsmith granting them supreme insight to what fighters need almost impossible to garner otherwise. That and their semblance.

Although the new Dustsmith did eventually decline Mistrals offer of a partnership they have been seen in other groups since. Criminal syndicates mostly but even seeing the Dustsmith out in the world has become more common. Dustsmiths of yore spent significant time travelling discreetly, forming relationships with smugglers and buyers out of the public eye. Fame was a dangerous thing, doubly so when what made you famous was the weapons you forged but that doesn't seem to be something the new Dustsmith worries about. Perhaps their size makes it difficult to travel as others once did but more likely it is because this new Dustsmith believes in the myth.

Personality: Although it would be incorrect to conflate the hero-worship of huntsman and huntresses to that of the Dustsmith, it is of a similar fervour however it is for very different reasons. The Dustsmith is seen to be Mistral, they were there at the beginning and are credited with so many inventions it is hard to imagine modern life without them. Now imagine training your entire life to be that person. To be specially selected and trained in secret by a literal myth while carrying your life out as normal. A God complex is putting the condition lightly.

The Dustsmith believes creation is what makes us truly alive, it separates us from animals and even more from forces of destruction like Grimm. As such the value of someone is their ability to create, regardless of how terrible that creation is. And the Dustsmith has a wide definition of creation, their own works are widely agreed upon as such but the Dustsmith takes creation beyond physical objects, another person would call it more simply change. Just as the Dustsmith still marvels at how his works change from rough raw materials into some of the finest weapons and armour on the planet they equally watch in enraptured delight at how revolutionaries change people from downtrodden vagrants to warriors. How criminals turn law-abiding citizens into themselves or strong people into broken husks.

As an individual, the Dustsmith is surprisingly warm and open-hearted despite his rapidly deteriorating reputation. Often bringing swarms of origami creatures to life to entertain children or doing repairs in outflung towns. This not only makes it even harder for Mistral to crackdown on the Dustsmith's increasingly criminal dealings, but it also gives him dozens of places to lie low all over Anima when others come looking. Kindness and good fortune change people just as much as strife and pain and it all feeds back into the Dustsmith's god complex. These offers of kindness do not always come without significant cost however and many people have found themselves in jail trying to pay back the golden soul of mistral.

Aura and Semblance: The Dustsmith's aura takes a bright [color=F8F8FF]Gold[/color] glow when in use or when their weapons are activated making it very obvious what weapons are theirs although he like all Dustsmiths has no maker's mark. The Dustsmith has a truly massive aura capacity however due to how their semblance works the Dustsmith actually has little to draw upon if he would ever come involved in a fight. Mechanically this means the Dustsmith's aura never goes above 50%.

The Dustsmith's semblance is animation. Works wrought by the Dustsmith can be invested with a portion of the Dustsmith's own aura during construction, reducing their maximum until said aura is released, only possible by the object’s destruction, and then the work becomes 'alive'. How long it can stay alive depends on the amount of aura invested and can be replenished when exhausted by the Dustsmith or any other aura user. Said animation can lay dormant in works until set triggers are activated or purposeful activation by the Dustsmith themselves or any person with aura wielding the weapon. This aura invested is noticeable by those with even basic aura training but cannot be exploited by the Dustsmith when the work is coated in another's aura.

The strength and durability of these new creations are all dependant on how well crafted they are, if one would peel back the Dustsmith's armour plating they would find muscle fibres carved in masterful detail and these come alive which give the animal motifs their strength, even thin creatures like snakes can snag an unwary or exhausted foe let alone the damage the maws of wolves, lions and even dragons which are so common in the Dustsmith's work could do. The durability is in direct relation to the materials used in the motifs construction, even through aura and when they would otherwise break they fold back into their host weapon and go inert until recharged. Recharging is an intensive process which must be initiated by the wielder and takes a few hours and leaves whoever did the recharging aura slightly drained however it will return as normal unlike in the original creation.

These motifs also may be empowered by dust in the form of powerful elemental attacks or simply augmenting their not quite natural abilities. Like their aura, this supply will need to be recharged when expended but the Dustsmith has a very fixed view on what their creations should be doing as such can only take the whatever dust they were initially filled with. Adding explosive materials to your weapons and armour has obvious safety issues and the Dustsmith rarely adds in any safeguards like the foam used in some Atlas technology finding it 'icky' to work with instead making his customers aware that if they damage their works, they might not even have to chase them down.

On to the limitations of the animations once activated. They aren’t exactly alive like a true animal but they respond to the desires of those whose aura coats them, if none do then they default to the Dustsmith’s combat protocols centred around keeping their wielder alive but also only fighting lethally in the most desperate of situations. This means that the wielder only needs to think for their weapon’s creatures to activate but that also means they wouldn’t activate if the wielder is stunned or otherwise overwhelmed. Only the animal part present can actually impact the wielder, for example, if a hawks head is added but no wings it can never generate lift, but the animals don’t need to exactly mirror their real-world counterparts, a shark could have three rows of teeth already descended or a lion could have hollow teeth like a viper.

Combat Behavior: The Dustsmith is a passable fighter individually, an even match to an average huntsman on a good day the Dustsmith does have a lot of advantages which come into play while fighting. Most obviously is their strength and size, augmented by his semblance boosted armour and weapons make the Dustsmith a brute force hammer with few matches. And unfortunately for their enemies, there is a brain under all that muscle, always planning and calculating all the while trying to engage his opponents or allies in philosophical discussion. As mentioned above the Dustsmith’s dexterity is also not hindered by their armour through his semblance but their weapon is still large making gaps in their defence inevitable. Luckily for their opponents, the Dustsmith fights mostly to subdue, never killing their opponents and will go out of their way to ensure their survival, including crafting new limbs for their assailants seeing death as destruction and as such antithetical to all of the Dustsmith's beliefs. This goes doubly true if the Dustsmith ever has to fight against someone using one of their weapons, almost preferring death to destroy one of their own creations they would make an unbreakable shield once the wielders aura started to drop low.

However, a crippling weakness remains the Dustsmith’s aura level, which means although the Dustsmith is capable of putting out crushing attacks they can not endure the same in return. Ironic perhaps considering their size but it means a hunter, or even a well-coordinated student team, only needs to get a few good hits to bring the Dustsmith down. To offset this weakness the Dustsmith does travel with a series of ‘body doubles,’ great golden golems of exactly the same size and appearance wielding the same great hammer/heavy machine gun that the Dustsmith does. Someone as prone to fancy as the Dustsmith could never be expected to create the exact same suit of armour multiple times so there are minor differences between them but not enough to signify the original but enough to slowly cross out possibilities.

WEAPON

Name: Blades of Heaven

Primary Form: A gorgeous halberd, the head forged from a gold/titanium alloy to combine beauty and strength and the haft is spotless white marble. All together this makes the weapon incredibly heavy but considering the Dustsmith’s equally incredible strength that simply provides more weight to their already bone-crushing blows. The animal motifs incorporated into the design include a shark head making up the butt of the polearm, bear claw making up the hook, a viper’s fang making up the spearhead and a praying mantis’s claw making up the axe blade. 10’ in total length Esrafil is unwieldy in close confined areas but the sheer destructive power is almost unmatched.

Secondary Form: An impressive but gratuitous transform involves Esrafil blossoming like a flower form halberd into a heavy battle rifle. The staff shortens but not by much and becomes the barrel resulting in phenomenal accuracy and power behind each shot but drastically reducing the rate of fire. This makes the weapon much more effective against larger Grimm than human/Faunus targets. The animal motifs remain but the shark mouth is being used as the barrel and the bear and mantis claw are greatly shortened to make room for the additional moving parts of a rifle. Only the viper fang remains truly effective, able to snake around the wielder to inject poison or adrenaline depending on the situation.

Dust Functions: The blades and but of the weapon have tiny veins running throughout allowing for the flow of dust to empower their strikes. A plentiful supply and flair for the dramatic results in massive dust creations, ice walls, earth pillars, whirlwinds, thunderstorms, magma flows or all of the above. Although not specifically dust the viper fang can inject a wide array of poisons including slow acting and quick acting non-lethal neurotoxins as well as adrenaline to keep the Dustsmith and their allies in the fight. The battle rifle variant can both fire dust infused rounds as well as spew raw dust creating an impromptu but nevertheless devastating flame/ice/electric/ect thrower

History: For such a beautiful weapon Esrafil has a very bland history. Crafted by the Dustsmith when they were young the weapon has been and continues to tinker with and it has been with them ever since. Honestly, the Dustsmith would let the weapon pass on to someone else by now but hasn’t met anyone with the desire, ability to wield and ability to pay to take it off them.

ARMOUR

Name: Paragon Plate

Primary Form: The Dustsmith’s golden armour is by far the most well known visual signifier and for good reason, it’s a phenomenal piece of their art in terms of both attack and defence. Heavy metal plating forged from a hybrid mixture of carbon microfibers and titanium alloys leave the suit heavy but surprisingly flexible and impervious to damage to the point the Dustsmith would be more worried about the resulting shockwave rupturing his organs from any blow which could actually dent the armour than the well being of said armour in the first place. A dragon more dominates the chest plate but various hook talons can also fold out to provide light attacks. Shoulders forming a lion and wolf are matched with hundreds if not thousands of tiny insect carvings capable of swarming with such intensity they could bring Grimm to their knees. The wing motifs can not even start to generate enough lift to move the Dustsmith and a purely a flight of fancy. The birds themselves can fly, however, acting as rather conspicuous scouts as well as evidence those searching for the Dustsmith are on the right path.

Dust Functions: Like the Blades of Heaven the Paragon Plate can utilise almost every kind of dust, most through the dragon head which can emerge two meters spraying great gouts of flame or whatever the Dustsmith requires. The insect swarms can also carry a significant amount of dust between all of them providing the closest thing the Dustsmith has to a subtle weapon. The various claws and fangs all have the same tiny veins as the halberd making the crushing embrace of the Dustsmith an almost assured defeat.

History: Like the halberd the Paragon Plate has no real history of its own. Although it should be made clear that the Dustsmith isn’t looking for someone to take this off their hands yet, only a handful in the world could even properly use it and armour isn’t popular among hunters and the like anyway.

There was a depressive air over the air ship Team RASB was flying in, laded heavy with supplies but still racing through the sky with desperate speed. The idea the Shiru would attack again so quickly after being pushed back Shade was one of those possibilities that everyone tried to forget about to the point when it inevitably happened no one was ready for it. Hunters sent out to reinforce major settlements and Shade Academy was almost entirely emptied to provide support. Minor settlements had their citizens fleeing for safety and entire tribes of formally nomadic peoples came seeking shelter. Not that any of the preparation seemed to help as within a week Shiru had struck again, an entire town swallowed by the monster and then the sands raging around it prevented extraction teams checking for survivors.

But Vacuoians are resourceful people, re-engineering their bull-heads to deal with monstrous storm within hours as such entire teams of hunters managed to make progress into the storm aiming to put down the Grimm once and for all. The storms ferocity combined with picking up stray dust particles created a powerful, disruptive electro-magnetic field and although the bull-heads remained on target they couldn't communicate out or in. At least that is what the visiting Atlas scientists said until only a few hours after the teams left communication was made just on the edge of the storm. Scrambled by all the interference it could still, to some degree, be understood. There were survivors but they needed help if that was going to remain the case. But from where? Almost every hunter in Vacuo answered the call to push into the desert storm and those who didn't were defending the remaining settlements along with Shades students.

An emergency council meeting was called, sending an untested team into the field was against every regulation the school enforced particularly one of this magnitude but there simply wasn't another option. Sending an air ship full of supplies without defenders was a waste and although some argued that untested first years weren't much better luckily cooler heads prevailed. Vacuo had asked for aid but the closest serious group of hunters was days away and with a situation where hours mattered luckily brasher minds prevailed. As such with the blessing of the Assistant Headmaster, Eliana had left with the hunters along with most teachers, RASB was sent out on their maiden voyage. Tears were shed and council members already regretted their decision but as they say Alea iacta est, the die is cast.

Ramalia lay sprawled out on the cargo hold of the air ship, already eating most of her way through one of the supply crates meant to feed dozens. Anything that wasn't mission critical from most electronics to all chairs outside the cockpit had been ripped out to make room for more supplies and more space to hopefully cram survivors. They had no idea how many sent out the distress message or how many would be there when they arrived, if the message got to Shade it could have reached further into the storm, so the council had filled the ship to the brim. A decision Ramalia was, as mentioned before, taking full advantage of, devouring meal after meal as she made small adjustments to her gear. The small outing in Atlas had shown her a few significant flaws in her designs more than her teachers prattling on every could and as with everything Ramalia was quick to adapt. Fine tuning dust delivery mechanisms, extending her cannon's barrel for faster more accurate firing as well as a thousand small things Ramalia continued her journey upwards.

The former scavenger wasn't that concerned about the mission ahead, she had her own more important one. The desert had chosen her to inform her people and she couldn't very well do that while dead and with that divine protection no Grimm, not even Shiru could stand in her way. Her companions she was less certain about, they of course weren't ‘Ashkhas which automatically made them weaklings. Their physical appearance didn't help in that regard with Ramalia towering over each of them. Unbidden her mind whispered that her strength wasn't what saved her from being cast out by the desert and it was undeniable that each had a spark of something special. Shaking her short blond hair Ramalia tried in vain to loosen those thoughts from her head instead prepared to carry RASB through what ever lay ahead.

The collected hunters and hunters in training are all sitting together in a massive hall, it’s comfortable enough despite how frigid it is outside and with several Atlas students not participating, or at least not participating now, walking around providing refreshments the place gave off a welcoming vibe despite its utilitarian design. As well as the hunters several scientists and teacher staff also walked between groups asking questions about their training exercises and how they overcame, or tried to overcome, these challenges. The walls were covered with screens showing some of the training sessions going on, battles with giant robots, grimm or other hunters each with their own rules on how to win. Paying close attention however it was clear, given by how many people were being taken out, that not every session was being played but most were none the wiser and cheered on these fights through the screens, talked to each other or prepared for their own encounter.

Team Three was one of the first groups called up to attempt one of these training sessions. brought in front of a some how even more sterile door. Looking like something out of a science fiction show, hexagonal and opening diagonally. Walking into the first room there was one person in Atlas uniform and an eagle on a post near one of the doors, there was four included the way which this impromptu team came in. 'Morning Hunters.' The man in Atlas Uniform called out as the group walked into view with no hint of humour. 'A hostile force has taken control of this science lab, taken the scientists as hostages and captured their equipment. Obviously the main objective is the hostages but anything you can prevent leaving this lab would help. Take care and remember stay sharp, they have had time to set up. Any questions?'

The eagle squawked but the man in Atlas Uniform ignored it, the bird seemed to be getting ready to fly off but where? All the doors where shut.

The collected hunters and hunters in training are all sitting together in a massive hall, it’s comfortable enough despite how frigid it is outside and with several Atlas students not participating, or at least not participating now, walking around providing refreshments the place gave off a welcoming vibe despite its utilitarian design. As well as the hunters several scientists and teacher staff also walked between groups asking questions about their training exercises and how they overcame, or tried to overcome, these challenges. The walls were covered with screens showing some of the training sessions going on, battles with giant robots, grimm or other hunters each with their own rules on how to win. Paying close attention however it was clear, given by how many people were being taken out, that not every session was being played but most were none the wiser and cheered on these fights through the screens, talked to each other or prepared for their own encounter.

It took a few hours for Ravya and Co to get called out. During this lull a few of the screens occasionally flicked back to a forested area, strangely serene compared to the other intense rushes of combat. As time went on however people began to point out strange movement among the trees, impossible glints and strange blurs got everyone talking. The Atlas teachers had been preparing for this for weeks, spending almost any waking moment hunting for new obstacles when not putting others in front of their students. But there was also all the scientists and engineers which were walking around, some who grinned slightly whenever the strange forest was shown.

Lead through the corridors the selected students quickly found themselves at the start of the strange forest. There wasn't any of the ordinary helpers around this test site instead there was a particularly well dressed woman with blond hair and piecing blue eyes. Beckoning the group forward she began to explain the constraint of the test. 'An unknown terrorist organisation has reprogrammed and stolen several robot prototypes and used them to prepare an ambush for an unsuspecting transport. It's cargo is incredibly valuable and must be delivered on time, there can be no delays. As such you all have been tasked to rid the forest of any threat. Any questions?' The Woman announced dramatically, she was clearly enjoying the bit of theater.

Behind her it was far easier to see the now clearly metalic glints between the trees. Whatever they were being tasked to deal with was already watching.

The collected hunters and hunters in training are all sitting together in a massive hall, it’s comfortable enough despite how frigid it is outside and with several Atlas students not participating, or at least not participating now, walking around providing refreshments the place gave off a welcoming vibe despite its utilitarian design. As well as the hunters several scientists and teacher staff also walked between groups asking questions about their training exercises and how they overcame, or tried to overcome, these challenges. The walls were covered with screens showing some of the training sessions going on, battles with giant robots, grimm or other hunters each with their own rules on how to win. Paying close attention however it was clear, given by how many people were being taken out, that not every session was being played but most were none the wiser and cheered on these fights through the screens, talked to each other or prepared for their own encounter.

A loud bing marks from the announcement system precedes each combination and this time the announcer calls for Solaris Star and Lyssa Andromiko. A hush comes over the crowd, not only do many of the Atlas students recognise the name of an Atlas Specialist but this is also the first team of two to have been announced. A handful of the screens flicker on to the new stadium, it’s a barren concrete field, not dissimilar to the fighting arenas elsewhere in the world only this was massive, easily two hundred meters each side and probably closer to three. There was no obvious challenge on screen but that only made those watching on more excited. Guesses of what it could be; hunter was the most common guess, no one thought any captured Grimm or robot could stand up to an Atlas Specialist, particularly one with back up.

As Solaris and Lyssa made their way to the stadium the challenge was still nowhere to be seen, directed to wait in the middle of the stadium, it didn't take any special emphatic abilities to feel the anticipation coming off the helpers. Something big was about to happen.

Although initially sent to the headmaster the message was quickly spread through out their schools to gauge interest.(hint hint)

'In response to the growing threat posed by new Grimm breeds as well as non-state actors like the White Fang, Atlas Academy has decided to host a series of challenges designed to push the current crop of hunters and hunters-in-training to their limits as they will need to surpass even those to turn the tide against the growing darkness. The other Huntsman Academies of Beacon, Haven and Shade have all sent delegations as well as of course our own Atlas academy boosted by prototypes from out finest weapon manufacturers have all sent their best and brightest to attend. In your trials you will come across captured Grimm, your fellow hunters, some of the most deadly machinery on Remnant and even your own teachers. But just like in reality not every battle can end in victory as such you will be given different objectives to try to prepare you for these no win scenarios. Prizes and glory await each victory, best of luck to all those who attempt these trials. My your strength keep you and yours warm in the face of the coming cold'

OK so the main jist of this is that students/hunters from all schools can sign up either as individuals or as a team, not necessarily their actual team, and they will be put through a series of mostly combat based challenges. Although there will be direct combat fights the majority of them will have some sort of twist to balance or upset the balance of the fight.

There isn't likely going to be an upper limit and I'm more than happy to have people add multiple characters.

It had been a successful enough mission, a daring strike into to the untamed wilds between Vale and Vacuo to search one of the recently rediscovered abandoned Lexkvar Industry facilities. It had taken a day to get out here by Bullhead but with the transport in ruins thanks to a close call with a Nevermore it looked like team ASTC had to make their way back on foot, at least until they got connections on their scrolls. The team carried between themselves cameras and sample kits as well as much intact scientific equipment they could carry. It lead to slow movement through the shrubbery which only worsened as they got to the more temperate and therefore forested Valish half of the continent.

Although the slow pace was doing a number on the teams resolve it devastated their resources, even Teddy's pack was mostly empty of food and the group had to rely on scavenging the surrounding environment to survive. Luckily all the students had gone through wilderness survival courses and had a decent idea of what plants you could eat and how to track the wild life. None more so than Calen who had lived in the wilderness for several years, although he deflected all questions about his skills with is normal horrible jokes, but the gaunt boy definitely took advantage of this. 'Accidentally' feeding his team mates hallucinogenic plants simply to liven up the drab atmosphere which had settled over them. It did not succeed.

They had been walking for ten hours to day, for the fourth as the team stumbled upon a town. Hope blossomed in even the most jaded member as they first saw the buildings but as they got closer it quickly wilted. The town was in ruins, long abandoned both by man and grimm the town still remained evidence of some folly venture to expand Vale's boarders. Decaying articles of their former occupants littered the area; books, dolls, even electronics. The town itself was made up of four two story buildings, twice that single story buildings and a large antenna. Despite the bad vibes the town was giving off it was clearly going to be the best place to rest, probably the best place they will find until they get to an actually inhabited village. As such Setsuna called a halt, a quick scan of the area showed no grimm or other threats remained.

A strange mixture of relief and trepidation filled the as they obeyed, some annoyed how easily that action was becoming. Collecting all their gear in one of the two story buildings the team then started to discuss what they should do for the last few hours of the day and the night which will soon fall. Calen was not doing well, mentally or physically. His knees ached from injures old and new and his figure had impossibly grown even more gaunt. Calen's outright refusal to eat anything cooked by the others because very apparent as they grew low on supplies and although he initially played it off as some sort of gallant action even Calen became bored of the act. There had been a growing part of Calen who missed surviving in the wilds by himself, particularly when his team mates were talking, but that was quickly becoming irreverent. Missing his many urban luxuries made the gaunt boy even more irritable than normal, his black hair had grown chaotically and stubble roughed his face consider but that all paled to his suit. What was supposed to be a two, three at the most day mission, had already become a seven day marathon and the suit was not holding up well. Threads torn even losing a button had meant Calen was forced to spend easily an hour a day repairing one on his suits, he had a spare but refused to use it in case they chance upon civilised company.

That was what Calen was doing now, using his semblance to launch himself to the highest point of the town, the antenna, and started collecting the errant threads. The entire town was bathed in a beautiful orange glow from the setting sun.

Appearance: Ramalia is a true mountain of a woman, standing 6’5 tall clad in layers of hard, thick muscle from life outside the kingdoms. An olive complexion is mostly free of scars, more steel than blue steel blue eyes topped off by a surprisingly well maintained short blond mohawk, Ramalia is almost the stereotypical Vacuoian raider. Tribal tattoos cover her left eye and right arm, three jagged lines over the eye and a maze of lines and solid blocks fully comprehensible only to those who were born among her tribe.

Ramalia still prefers to wear the same clothing she wore when apart of her tribe, finding comfort in its familiar weight, even though it marks her as an outsider in Vacuo. Hard layers of leather worn and tough cover most of Ramalia’s body protecting it from the sun and heat. Reinforced by slabs of scrap metal found in throughout the Great Vacuo Desert to protect against the Grimm as well as augmenting her physical strikes. Although the leather is naturally a bland brown the scavenged metal often has bright coloured strips which can be covered with cloth if stealth is required. The googles Ramalia wears to protect her eyes from the sun are also red. Ramalia rarely wears ‘traditional’ clothing and never formal clothing even the school uniform.

Possessing a rhythmic, sing song tone of speech which contrasts severely with her harsh exterior and slightly hunched posture. This flawed posture only gets worse while sitting or lying down, very much a sprawler, Ramalia can take up a ridiculous amount of room and sees nothing wrong with such. This carries over to her other gestures; Ramalia laughs loud, eats louder, parties loudest and has the stamina and frankly the temper to go from an hours long drinking binge to a full blown fight.

History: Ramalia was born among one of the tribes desperately trying to survive deep within the wasteland of Vacuo’s most harsh deserts. The ‘Ashkhas Formed from a mixture of humans and faunus centuries ago this tribe managed to evolve to mostly survive in the desert alone. Still there are things that even the most resourceful hunters can’t procure on their own as such the tribe took to unsanctioned scavenging, looting wrecks too far inland, too infested with grimm or too recent for other crews. With this they traded for dust, water and food as well as the occasional piece of technology.

This was the hard and harsh world which Ramalia was born into. An amoral mess where the constant danger of grimm was only surpassed by the desert weather with it’s blistering hot days and freezing cold nights. Raised collectively by the tribe Ramalia and her generation had their place designated by their performance in several ritualistic trials with as much vague religious symbolism as actual test at the end of ever year past their fifth birthday. Ramalia performed extremely well in these trials as she grew faster and stronger than the others, she took in the lessons faster and could last longer in the wilds.

The religious leader of her tribe took an interest early on and began drilling the lessons of survival they had learnt across the centuries with a highly ritualised tint on top of her other training. Ramalia adored this high intensity of guidance, constantly pushed to her limit but more importantly being held in such high esteem by her fellows. A rising star among her people apparently destined to lead them all in a few short decades time. This hope for her future only increased as her semblance developed not long before her 13th birthday. Being able to see through the local animals made Ramalia an incredible asset in hunting, gathering and scavenging. In only a few short years this allowed the tribe to blossom immensely, drawing new families in and claiming new land. These families in turn brought new skills as craftsman and animal tamers further expanding the skill set of the tribe and therefore the tribe's power even further increased.

This run of good luck continued until Ramalia’s 17th birthday and final ritual milestone until adulthood. This trial was far more intense than any before it but everyone was confident that she would pass it seemingly without difficulty like all the others. As a part of this ritual the applicant would ingest a mixture of herbs, some hallucinogenic and some poisonous, then climb to the highest point within the ‘Ashkhas’s territory, an immense pillar towering out of the ground then await a vision. The pillar was too hard for conventional climbing tools as otherwise would have never withstood the desert’s wind and sand. Instead the applicant had to use fixed hand holds chiseled into the rock face from time immemorial. This wasn’t a complete positive however as many of these crevices had become home to various poisonous spiders adding to the danger of the trial.

Still Ramalia had prepared for the trial all year, she had taken in all the lessons those who had done it before had to give, and she was still the most gifted of her tribe, she couldn’t fail. She shouldn’t fail. She did fail. The climb was perilous, a thick fog had drifted in from the sea soaking the hand holds. This didn’t stop Ramalia however as her grip was strong and will stronger and in only a few short minutes she reached the top. It was the second stage which she couldn’t accomplish. Here the applicant would meditate on the tip of the pillar, hear the voices of the desert and be given their adult name. On the third day Ramalia run out of food. On the fifth, the water was all gone. By the seventh Ramalia lay dying from exposure, the desert did not speak to her. She would have no place within the tribe.

Luckily for Ramalia. members of the ‘Ashkhas had come to watch her finish the trial. After the seventh day they had grown so worried and believing there was no way Ramalia could have failed went up the pillar to rescue her. Assuming her collapsed form some kind of religious experience rather than simple exhaustion the tribespeople took Ramalia back to their caravans to recover. It took a few days for Ramalia to awaken but when she did she revealed with great shame her failure in the last trial. The tribe formed a council to decide what to do with Ramalia. If the desert didn’t acknowledge her then the tribe believed that if she joined them as an adult that disdain would carry on to them. The desert which almost everyone had lost someone to when it was appeased, none were willing to take the risk of what the desert would do if it grew angry with them.

Although a highly practical people the animistic religious beliefs of the ‘Ashkhas where core to their very being and what outsider may see as wasteful they knew the only solution was sacrifice. Drowning in the sea to be specific so the desert’s rejected daughter would no longer pollute it’s sands. The trip was dark and sombre, no one had expected this outcome and now it had occurred it seemed like a dream. Ramalia, their perfect scion, had been rejected by the forces they worship and now had to be killed. Ramalia response was more determined, she knew the laws of the desert better than any of her kin and she understood the punishments for breaking them even through no action of her own. She was kept in chains but they weren’t needed, Ramalia would meet her death the way the sand willed it. Her bright future which had almost come to take for granted had vanished and now the people she had spilled blood time and time again for had decided to kill her but if this was the plan for her she would accept it.

As they reached the beach the tribe waited for low tide before walking Ramalia out into the sea. Attaching weights and trapping her there and left waiting for the tide to come in and drown her. In the following hours the tribe beseeched the desert for mercy. Ramalia joined in their prayers but the winds howls held no words and no potents were seen. The waves were going over Ramalia’s face before succor arrived. The ‘Ashkhas’ religious leader had found a loophole. Although not being given an adult name clearly meant that the desert didn’t want her in the tribe and exile would be a far worse fate than drowning there are ways Ramalia could serve the tribe without being part of it. As the tribe’s fortunes improved they had more and more dealings with the outside world. They had learnt about; Vacuo, Vale, Mistral and Atlas, how large the world is and so on. They wanted someone they could trust to leave their desert and inform them of the world.

Hunter Schools seemed like the natural fit to form a connection between the ‘Ashkha and the world as a whole. Ramalia did surprisingly well on the academic side of the entrance exams, a sound mathematical mind combined with a lifetime learning passages by heart meant she had refined the basics of learning to a fine edge. The combat sections were easier but Shade’s combat instructors isolated several significant weakness that they want to get around to fixing as soon as possible. Being trained by some of the best minds the world had to offer Ramalia summarises these lessons and sends them home as well as any piece of technology she could spare. As for how she does in school over all Ramalia is very determined in her mission to pass on her lessons to her tribe and as such puts a lot of effort into understanding the subject matter. However that same devotion holds her back in a lot of aspects, the religious beliefs of the ‘Ashkhar makes her stumble a lot in almost all aspects of learning.

Personality: Ramalia can seem very stoic and aloof at first glance or at least while sober. Growing up in an environment where strength and obedience was all, she has had difficulty adapting to a society with a far wider spread of individuals. Ramalia of course doesn’t consider herself aloof, in fact she quite likes the idea of being the wild barbarian queen from the wastes and plays that kind of persona up. There is a degree of self awareness to this persona however with knowing first hand that strength isn’t always going to be enough to solve all her issues.

That still doesn’t mean that strength and directness aren’t her first port of call, being aware of other solutions doesn’t make Ramalia any better at capitalising on them. The only small exceptions to this are in the wild. The ‘Ashkha made their wealth off scavenging and as such Ramalia has a lot of practice in scanning the battlefield for anything that could be useful in the fight now or future.

The most obvious personality quirk of Ramalia is her unorthodox worldview. Firstly she is quite accepting of other people's explanations, trusting their perspective until they give her a reason to doubt it. This does leave Ramalia rather incurious, interested more in what things are rather than why. Secondly living in the deserts outside Vacuo has left Ramalia amoral or at least possessing a relative morality with the highest value placed on the survival of the tribe and everything else in relation to that ideal. The third is although Ramalia is a reasonably intelligent woman particularly concerning weather patterns her ‘whys’ would cause equal parts laughter and disbelief from the meteorological community, pressure systems being the will of the desert, ground water basically being magic and the water cycle being caused because of a pact between the original ‘Ashkha and the desert itself. Although humourous a more impactful example is concerning the laws of Vacuo. Not really respecting the institution itself Ramalia hasn’t bothered to learn the laws above enough to pass civic classes. This doesn’t mean she doesn’t understand that killing and stealing are wrong but anything beyond that is a grey area.

As for personal relationships Ramalia doesn’t truly understand much of the familial structure of the outside world. Raised communally she doesn’t understand what the point of father, mother and sibling relations are. Even the more casual relationships seem a bit odd. Almost everything has a practical purpose among the ‘Ashkha and as such friendships are based simply shared preferences instead of hunting/scavenging partners. This doesn’t mean that Ramalia rejects requests of friendship she simply doesn’t really understand her role in the relationship resulting her being too personal or not personal enough. As for the relation with her tribe Ramalia often sends personal messages with her lessons but never receives responses. Although at the time an alternative was seemingly completely supported but now many worry it wasn’t enough. Living in such a treacherous land as the Vacuo Deserts death isn’t an uncommon event and there is always the half thought that it was because the desert is displeased.

Aura and Semblance: From necessity the ‘Ashkha had learnt several lessons to do with aura and they passed this onto their children. Ramalia’s natural strength carries over to here as well giving her a massive pool to draw upon. However there is a reason why textbook training is in the textbook and her lack of finesse reduces Ramalia’s effective aural strength to average. Taking on a steel blue colour Ramalia's aura was just another thing people pointed at to prove her seemingly preordained destiny, sharing the colour of the local Wild Heliotrope, called scorpionweed by most Vacuoians due it attracting the poisonous arachnids favorite meal, a wild flower whose bright colours could be seen for miles and always indicated water was nearby.

Ramalia’s semblance is Wild Eyes, allowing her to ‘look’ through the senses of animals within a large area. She has limited control, acting more like a backseat driver and has an instinctive understanding of how to apply these senses even those without human mirror like a bat’s echolocation. Ramalia can look through one animal without substantially reducing her effectiveness although it is still requires substantial concentration. Anything above that Ramalia’s mind will quickly become overwhelmed from all the information. Recently discovering a way to deal with this Ramalia can enter a meditative state to help process the information allowing her to piggy back dozens of animals quickly forming a detailed map of her surroundings. This results in a massive drain on Ramalia’s stamina to the point she would only be able to use this level twice in a day if she was bed bound for the entire time. A single animal can be maintained for hours before rest is needed. The power is instantaneous to activate and marked only by a flash of white from her eyes often hidden by goggles which remain pure white for the duration of the semblance.

As little control Ramalia has over animals she would never be able to force animals to attack grimm and even human foes are rarely worth it. Instead this provides various perception advantages like a bird’s eye view or a snake’s sense of touch to aid Ramalia in whatever endeavour she is pursuing.

Combat Behavior: As someone would expect from her size Ramalia highly relies on her overwhelming strength augmented by her surprisingly advanced technology. Mostly ranged Ramalia prefers to devastate her foes from afar with an endless barrage with her cannon. The huge firepower of this weapon is balanced slightly by its slow rate of fire which makes it impossible to truly pin down foes if she can’t blast them away. The heavy weight of her weapon as well as her metal plating she wears does slow Ramalia down substantially both in pure speed and manoeuvrability and she is unwilling to resort to ‘rocket jumping’ due to her desire to still have legs. Still Ramalia has tried to offset this by training her stamina and can keep running for hours even with all her gear in the blazing desert sun.

For close combat Ramalia relies on the power fists covering her arms. Mostly these are used to help deal the cannon’s recoil and soften the heat it gives off but they can be applied in combat directly as well. Augmenting her physical strength as well as allowing her to unleash gouts of dust means that Ramalia can be as devastating an opponent in melee as she can at range. Similar weaknesses apply however as for all the incredible strength Ramalia can put behind each blow they are slow and predictable, favouring heavy swings over jabs. This means that melee combat is only implemented in desperation or when Ramalia is confident in her victory, which often doesn’t go how she expects. Ramalia also rarely uses anything outside her arms while fighting, preferring instead to stun her opponents with a robo-boosted hook the move in for the grapple.

Fundamentally the biggest weakness is although her strength and stamina have been built up over the years Ramalia has never been able to seriously improve her dexterity. Lacking any true ability to make up for this Ramalia often finds herself at the mercy of those who can’t who manage either through speed or ingenuity to counter her rather one-trick approach. As mentioned above however Ramalia has very good battlefield awareness allowing her quickly, for her, follow and give orders even the chaos of a full scale battle.

Although not directly relating to her combat behaviour Ramalia keeps several ‘pets’ from her time in the desert to help assist her semblance. A small snake, desert eagle and wolf have all joined the menagerie Ramalia is slowly turning Shade into. They mean that she always has their senses at her disposal even when no other animals are nearby but she has also had more practice controlling these through her semblance and therefore more effective than truly wild creatures.

Primary Form: A long barrel forms the majority of the weapon. A rusted red colouration is only broken up by a series of modifications, some with practical applications while others are more religious. The most obvious is the wings emerging from the middle of the weapon, flaring up when the weapon is fuctional they protect Ramalia against light counter fire as well as further balancing the weapon. Other than that is the large tube which connects the weapon to the backpack Ramalia wears which stores her ammunition and transports it to the cannon when needed. A few switches are on the weapon itself to control which ammo type gets dispensed and they usually work. Other than that some small attempts to reduce the recoil have been made since at Shade, mostly mechanical as any more dust would make the cannon into more of a bomb.

Ammunition: Although the weapon only has one form, minus a storage form which clips onto the backpack and collapses the glass dome, the true variety of the weapon is in it’s ammunition. Traditional cannon shot of course make up the majority as Ramalia’s arsenal, injected with a small amount of dust these can do little more than additional damage. Chain shot is Ramalia’s least common variant as it is very inaccurate and ice dust tends to trap people better but she still carries around a few of this strange ammunition. Grapeshot is the second most prevalent ammunition type Ramalia uses as it helps deal with enemies which have gotten too close and although might do hit as hard as the others is much harder to miss with even at moderate range. The last type are glass rounds, these store a huge amount of dust and can cause massive explosions even if they miss.

Dust Functions: Heavily relying on dust Ramalia makes use of almost every type available to her and is always eager to try a new one out.Gravity: Draws people and object closer to the ballFire: Causes an inferno to erupt after contactIce: Freezes foes hitElectricity: Seems to arc toward metallic objects as well as carrying a chargeWind: Shot moves faster and kicks up a lot of dirt/sand on impact

History: Although the cannon as been in development for most of Ramalia’s life it only really took anything close to the shape it now does when her tribe expanded bringing in more craftsman. This evolution has continued at Shade although Ramalia insists that it remains… easy to repair even if that means it tends to break down more often.

A trip the Atlas to help out with a series of training missions made clear the necessity of faster pace, more accurate fire particularly against her fellow hunters-in-training resulting in a serious overhaul of it's design. this included massively lengthening the barrels as well as making the design much more sleek for aesthetic reasons. Finally the large wings provide much needed cover while on the move as Ramalia has the tendency to be too busy blasting away at her enemies to worry about silly things like cover.

Primary Form: Full sleeve mechanical devices these two weapons may not look like much with their junkyard aesthetic but they get the job done. A series of hydraulics detects muscle impulses and moves with Ramalia’s arms boosting her already massive strength with cold steel. Several metal plates are then built around the weapons to make it more protective particularly around the hand and wrist.

Secondary Form: Although initially simply boxing gloves from hell the gauntlets can modify what exactly is on the knuckle to give more adaptability. Bone saws and claws move down from further up the arm to add an additional bite to Ramalia’s swings. Although initially designed to assist with scavenging operations they have already proven themselves equally effective at fighting grimm and intimidating her fellow students.

Dust Functions: Heavily relying on dust Ramalia makes use of almost every type available to her and is always eager to try a new one out.Gravity: Allows for the detachment and reattachment of the bone saw and claws, more of an intimidation tactic but can be useful against weak grimm.Ice: massively cools Ramalia, and her cannon if held, down. Designed more as a shock to ensure the upper hand in grapples or other close combat.Electricity: Although initially designed as a single damage increase Ramalia tends to save this for recharging devices found on her missions.Wind: Blasts her opponent away, hopefully lining up a good shot with her cannon.Water: Performs a similar job, if slightly worse at it, as Wind dust with the additional bonuses of survival implications and disrupting vision. Earth: Even further increasing Ramalia’s strength for a short period of time. This can also be used to further stabilised the cannon allowing for a short period of faster fire, still far below most other handheld weapons.

History: These weren’t originally Ramalia’s, given to her on the eve of her 17th birthday and that failed trial as an attempt to curry favour among the assumed successor of the tribe. When Ramalia failed the original owner didn’t want any chance of sharing in the desert’s displeasure and refused to accept them back. Ramalia has made good use of them since.

Appearance: Ramalia is a true mountain of a woman, standing 6’5 tall clad in layers of hard, thick muscle from life outside the kingdoms. An olive complexion is mostly free of scars and matches her deep amber eyes all framed by short blond hair, matted and rough from years in the wild. Tribal tattoos cover her left eye and right arm, three jagged lines over the eye and a maze of lines and solid blocks fully comprehensible only to those who were born among her tribe.

Ramalia still prefers to wear the same clothing she wore when apart of her tribe, finding comfort in its familiar weight, even though it marks her as an outsider in Vacuo. Hard layers of leather worn and tough cover most of Ramalia’s body protecting it from the sun and heat. Reinforced by slabs of scrap metal found in throughout the Great Vacuo Desert to protect against the Grimm as well as augmenting her physical strikes. Although the leather is naturally a bland brown the scavenged metal often has bright coloured strips which can be covered with cloth if stealth is required. The googles Ramalia wears to protect her eyes from the sun are also red. Ramalia rarely wears ‘traditional’ clothing and never formal clothing even the school uniform.

Possessing a rhythmic, sing song tone of speech which contrasts severely with her harsh exterior and slightly hunched posture. This flawed posture only gets worse while sitting or lying down, very much a sprawler, Ramalia can take up a ridiculous amount of room and sees nothing wrong with such. This carries over to her other gestures; Ramalia laughs loud, eats louder, parties loudest and has the stamina and frankly the temper to go from an hours long drinking binge to a full blown fight.

History: Ramalia was born among one of the tribes desperately trying to survive deep within the wasteland of Vacuo’s most harsh deserts. The ‘Ashkhas Formed from a mixture of humans and faunus centuries ago this tribe managed to evolve to mostly survive in the desert alone. Still there are things that even the most resourceful hunters can’t procure on their own as such the tribe took to unsanctioned scavenging, looting wrecks too far inland, too infested with grimm or too recent for other crews. With this they traded for dust, water and food as well as the occasional piece of technology.

This was the hard and harsh world which Ramalia was born into. An amoral mess where the constant danger of grimm was only surpassed by the desert weather with it’s blistering hot days and freezing cold nights. Raised collectively by the tribe Ramalia and her generation had their place designated by their performance in several ritualistic trials with as much vague symbolism as actual test at the end of ever year past their fifth birthday. Ramalia performed extremely well in these trials as she grew faster and stronger than the others, she took in the lessons faster and could last longer in the wilds.

The religious leader of her tribe took an interest early on and began drilling the lessons of survival they had learnt across the centuries with a highly ritualised tint on top of her other training. Ramalia adored this high intensity of training, constantly pushed to her limit but more importantly being held in such high esteem by her fellows. A rising star among her people apparently destined to lead them all in a few short decades time. This hope for her future only increased as her semblance developed not long before her 13th birthday. Being able to see through the local animals made Ramalia an incredible asset in hunting, gathering and scavenging. In only a few short years this allowed the tribe to blossom immensely, drawing new families in and claiming new land. And these families in turn brought new skills, craftsman and animal tamers joined further expanding the skill set of the tribe and therefore the tribe's power even further increased.

This run of good luck continued until Ramalia’s 17th birthday and final ritual milestone until adulthood. This trial was far more intense than any before it but everyone was confident that she would pass it seemingly without difficulty like all the others. As a part of this ritual the applicant would ingest a mixture of herbs, some hallucinogenic and some poisonous, Ramalia was them to climb to the highest point within the ‘Ashkhas’s territory, an immense pillar towering out of the ground. It was too hard for conventional climbing tools as otherwise would never of withstood the desert’s wind and sand. Instead the applicant had to use fixed hand holds chiseled into the rock face when the trial began. This wasn’t a complete positive however as many of these crevices had become home to various poisonous spiders adding to the danger of the trial.

Still Ramalia had prepared for the trail all year, she had taken in all the lessons those who had done it before had to give, and she was still the most gifted of her tribe, she couldn’t fail. She shouldn’t fail. She did fail. The climb was perilous, a thick fog had drifted in from the sea soaking the hand holds. This didn’t stop Ramalia however as her grip was strong and will stronger and in only a few short hours she reached the top. It was the second stage which she couldn’t accomplish. Here the applicant would meditate on the tip of the pillar, hear the voices of the desert and be given their adult name. On the third day Ramalia run out of food. On the fifth, the water was all gone. By the seventh Ramalia lay dying from exposure, the desert did not speak to her. She would have no place within the tribe.

Luckily for Ramalia. members of the ‘Ashkhas had come to watch her finish the trial. After the seventh day the had grown so worried and believing there was no way Ramalia could have failed went up the pillar to rescue her. Assuming her collapsed form some kind of religious experience rather than simple exhaustion the tribespeople took Ramalia back to their caravans to recover. It took a few days for Ramalia to awaken but when she did she revealed with great shame her failure in the last trial. The tribe formed a council to decide what to do with Ramalia. If the desert didn’t acknowledge her then the tribe believed that if she joined them as an adult that disdain would carry on to them. The desert which almost everyone had lost someone to when it was appeased, none were willing to take the risk of what the desert would do if it grew angry with them

Although a highly practical people the animistic religious beliefs of the ‘Ashkhas here core to their very being and although it would seem wasteful to outsiders they knew the only solution was sacrifice. Drowning in the sea to be specific so the desert’s rejected daughter would no longer pollute it’s sands. The trip was dark and sombre, no one had expected this outcome and now it had occurred it seemed like a dream. Ramalia, their perfect scion, had been rejected by the forces they worship and now had to be killed. Ramalia response was more determined, she knew the laws of the desert as well as any of her kin and she understood the punishments for breaking them even through no action of her own. She was kept in chains but they weren’t needed, Ramalia would meet her death the way the sand willed it. Everything she had known had vanished and now the people she had spilled blood time and time again for had decided to kill her but if this was the plan for her she would accept it.

As they reached the beach the tribe waited for low tide before walking Ramalia out into the sea. Attaching weights and trapping her there and left waiting for the tide to come in and drown her. In the following hours the tribe beseeched the desert for mercy. Ramalia joined in their prayers but the winds howls held no words and no potents was seen. The waves were going over Ramalia’s face before succor arrived. The ‘Ashkhas’ religious leader had found a loophole. Although not being given an adult name clearly meant that the desert didn’t want her in the tribe and exile would be a far worse fate than drowning there are ways Ramalia could serve the tribe without being part of it. As the tribe’s fortunes improved they had more and more dealings with the outside world. They had learnt about; Vacuo, Vale, Mistral and Atlas, how large the world is and so on. They wanted someone they could trust to leave their desert and inform them of the world.

Hunter Schools seemed like the natural fit to form a connection between the ‘Ashkha and the world as a whole. Ramalia did surprisingly well on the academic side of the entrance exams, a sound mathematical mind combined with a lifetime learning passages by heart meant she had all the basics were down pat. The combat sections were easier but Shade’s combat instructors isolated several significant weakness that they want to get around to fixing as soon as possible. Being trained by some of the best minds the world had to offer Ramalia summarises these lessons and sends them home as well as any piece of technology she ccould spare. As for how she does in school over all Ramalia is very determined in her mission to pass on her lessons to her tribe and as such puts a lot of effort into understanding the subject matter. However that same devotion holds her back in a lot of aspects, the religious beliefs of the ‘Ashkhar makes her stumble a lot in almost all aspects of learning.

Personality: Ramalia can seem very stoic and aloof at first glance or at least while sober. Growing up in an environment where strength and obedience was all she has had difficulty adapting to a society with a far wider spread of individuals. Ramalia of course doesn’t consider herself aloof, in fact she quite likes the idea of being the wild barbarian queen from the wastes and plays that kind of persona up. There is a degree of self awareness to this persona however with knowing first hand that strength isn’t always going to be enough to solve all her issues.

That still doesn’t mean that strength and directness aren’t her first port of call, being aware of other solutions doesn’t make Ramalia any better at capitalising on them. The only small exceptions to this are in the wild. The ‘Ashkha made their wealth off scavenging and as such Ramalia has a lot of practice in scanning the battlefield for anything that could be useful in the fight now or future.

The most obvious personality quirk of Ramalia is her unorthodox worldview. Firstly she is quite accepting of other people's explanations, trusting their perspective until they give her a reason to doubt it. This does leave Ramalia rather incurious, interested more in what things are rather that why. Secondly living in the deserts outside Vacuo has left Ramalia amoral or at least possessing a relative morality with the highest value placed on the survival of the tribe and everything else in relation to that ideal. The third is although Ramalia is a reasonably intelligent woman particularly concerning weather patterns her ‘whys’ would cause equal parts laughter and disbelief from the meteorological community, pressure systems being the will of the desert, ground water basically being magic and the water cycle being caused because of a pact between the original ‘Ashkha and the desert itself. Although humourous a more impactful example is concerning the laws of Vacuo. Not really respecting the institution itself Ramalia hasn’t bothered to learn the laws above enough to pass civic classes. This doesn’t mean she doesn’t understand that killing and stealing are wrong but anything beyond that is a grey area.

As for personal relationships Ramalia doesn’t truly understand much of the familial structure of the outside world. Raised communally she doesn’t understand what the point of father, mother and sibling relations are. Even the more casual relationships seem a bit odd. Almost everything has a practical purpose among the ‘Ashkha and as such friendships are based simply shared preferences instead of hunting/scavenging partners. This doesn’t mean that Ramalia rejects requests of friendship she simply doesn’t really understand her role in the relationship resulting her going too personal or not personal enough. As for the relation with her tribe Ramalia often sends personal messages with her lessons but never receives responses. Although at the time an alternative was seemingly completely supported but now many worry it wasn’t enough. Living in such a treacherous land as the Vacuo Deserts death isn’t an uncommon event and there is always the half thought that it was because the desert is displeased.

Aura and Semblance: From necessity the ‘Ashkha had learnt several lessons to do with aura and they passed this onto their children. Ramalia’s natural strength carries over to here as well giving her a massive pool to draw upon. However there is a reason why textbook training is in the textbook and her lack of finesse reduces Ramalia’s effective aural strength to average.

Ramalia’s semblance is Wild Eyes, allowing her to ‘look’ through the senses of animals within a large area. She has limited control, acting more like a backseat driver and has an instinctive understanding of how to apply these senses even those without human mirror like a bat’s echolocation. Ramalia can look through one animal without substantially reducing her effectiveness although it is still requires substantial concentration. Anything above that Ramalia’s mind will quickly grow overwhelmed from all the information. Discovering a way to deal with this Ramalia can enter a meditative state to help process the information allowing her to piggy back dozens of animals quickly forming a detailed map of her surroundings. This results in a massive drain on Ramalia’s stamina to the point she would only be able to use this level twice in a day if she was bed bound for the entire time. A single animal can be maintained for hours before rest is needed. The power is instantaneous to activate and marked only by a flash of white from her eyes often hidden by goggles which remain pure white for the duration of the semblance.

As little control Ramalia has over animals she would never be able to force animals to attack grimm and even human foes are rarely worth it. Instead this provides various perception advantages like a bird’s eye view or a snake’s sense of touch to aid Ramalia in whatever endeavour she is pursuing.

Combat Behavior: As someone would expect from her size Ramalia highly relies on her overwhelming strength augmented by her surprisingly advanced technology. Mostly ranged Ramalia prefers to devastate her foes from afar with an endless barrage with her cannon. The huge firepower of this weapon is balanced slightly by its slow rate of fire which makes it impossible to truly pin down foes if she can’t blast them away. The heavy weight of her weapon as well as her metal plating she wears does slow Ramalia down substantially both in pure speed and manoeuvrability and she is unwilling to resort to ‘rocket jumping’ due to her desire to still have legs. Still Ramalia has tried to offset this by training her stamina and can keep running for hours even with all her gear in the blazing desert sun.

For close combat Ramalia relies on the power fists covering her arms. Mostly these are used to help deal the cannon’s recoil and soften the heat it gives off but they can be applied in combat directly as well. Augmenting her physical strength as well as allowing her to unleash gouts of dust means that Ramalia can be as devastating an opponent at melee as she can at range. Similar weaknesses apply however as for all the incredible strength Ramalia can put behind each blow they are slow and predictable, favouring heavy swings over jabs. This means that melee combat is only implemented in desperation or when Ramalia is confident in her victory, which often doesn’t go how she expects. Ramalia also rarely uses anything outside her arms while fighting, preferring instead to stun her opponents with a robo-boosted hook the move in for the grapple.

Fundamentally the biggest weakness is although her strength and stamina have been built up over the years Ramalia has never been able to seriously improve her dexterity. Lacking any true ability to make up for this Ramalia often finds herself at the mercy of those who can’t who manage either through speed or ingenuity to counter her rather one-trick approach. As mentioned above however Ramalia has very good battlefield awareness allowing her quickly, for her, follow and give orders even the chaos of a full scale battle.

Although not directly relating to her combat behaviour Ramalia keeps several ‘pets’ from her time in the desert to help assist her semblance. A small snake, desert eagle and wolf have all joined the menagerie Ramalia is slowly turning Shade into. They mean that she always has their senses at her disposal even when no other animals are nearby but she has also had more practice controlling these through her semblance and therefore more effective than truly wild creatures.

Primary Form: A short fat barrel forms the majority of the weapon. A rusted red colouration is only broken up by a series of modifications, some with practical applications while others are more religious. The most obvious is the glass dome emerging from the top of the weapon, it contains a massive supply of kinetic and fire dust which acts as the ignition for the weapon. Other than that is the large tube which connects the weapon to the backpack Ramalia wears which stores her ammunition and transports it to the cannon when needed. A few switches are on the weapon itself to control which ammo type gets dispensed and they usually work. Other than that some small attempts to reduce the recoil have been made since at Shade, mostly mechanical as any more dust would make the cannon into more of a bomb.

Ammunition: Although the weapon only has one form, minus a storage form which clips onto the backpack and collapses the glass dome, the true variety of the weapon is in it’s ammunition. Traditional cannon shot of course make up the majority as Ramalia’s arsenal, injected with a small amount of dust these can do little more than additional damage. Chain shot is Ramalia’s least common variant as it is very inaccurate and ice dust tends to trap people better but she still carries around a few of this strange ammunition. Grapeshot is the second most prevalent ammunition type Ramalia uses as it helps deal with enemies which have gotten too close and although might do hit as hard as the others is much harder to miss with even at moderate range. The last type are glass rounds, these store a huge amount of dust and can cause massive explosions even if they miss.

Dust Functions: Heavily relying on dust Ramalia makes use of almost every type available to her and is always eager to try a new one out.Gravity: Draws people and object closer to the ballFire: Causes an inferno to erupt after contactIce: Freezes foes hitElectricity: Seems to arc toward metallic objects as well as carrying a chargeWind: Shot moves faster and kicks up a lot of dirt/sand on impact

History: Although the cannon as been in development for most of Ramalia’s life it only really took anything close to the shape it now does when her tribe expanded bringing in more craftsman. This evolution has continued at Shade although Ramalia insists that it remains… easy to repair even if that means it tends to break down more often.

Primary Form: Full sleeve mechanical devices these two weapons may not look like much with their junkyard aesthetic but they get the job done. A series of hydraulics detects muscle impulses and moves with Ramalia’s arms boosting her already massive strength with cold steel. Several metal plates are then built around the weapons to make it more protective particularly around the hand and wrist.

Secondary Form: Although initially simply boxing gloves from hell the gauntlets can modify what exactly is on the knuckle to give more adaptability. Bone saws and claws move down from further up the arm to add an additional bite to Ramalia’s swings. Although initially designed to assist with scavenging operations they have already proven themselves equally effective at fighting grimm and intimidating her fellow students.

Dust Functions: Heavily relying on dust Ramalia makes use of almost every type available to her and is always eager to try a new one out.Gravity: Allows for the detachment and reattachment of the bone saw and claws, more of an intimidation tactic but can be useful against weak grimm.Ice: massively cools Ramalia, and her cannon if held, down. Designed more as a shock to ensure the upper hand in grapples or other close combat.Electricity: Although initially designed as a single damage increase Ramalia tends to save this for recharging devices found on her missions.Wind: Blasts her opponent away, hopefully lining up a good shot with her cannon.Water: Performs a similar job, if slightly worse at it, as Wind dust with the additional bonuses of survival implications and disrupting vision. Earth: Even further increasing Ramalia’s strength for a short period of time. This can also be used to further stabilised the cannon allowing for a short period of faster fire, still far below most other handheld weapons.

History: These weren’t originally Ramalia’s, given to her on the eve of her 17th birthday and that failed trial as an attempt to curry favour among the assumed successor of the tribe. When Ramalia failed the original owner didn’t want any chance of sharing in the desert’s displeasure and refused to accept them back. Ramalia has made good use of them since.

Flying high in the sky returning from a job Cornell's celebrations are cut short from a bleep from a scroll. It's the only warning she gets before her contact launches into a rapid fire sales pitch.

Hey, hey, why isn't my favourite pirate? Let me tell you I've found the best pay days you'll ever get. Classy lady do some exposing thing asked for you by name, says you both have a lot in common. Won't tell me details but wants to meet face to face. I'll pass on her location but you better remember who put you two in contact when the lien comes in. I'd say good luck but you don't need it, but come around some time. The kid loves ya.

The contact hangs up as quickly as he spoke and the coffin is engulfed in silence once more. Longitude and latitude coordinates come through a moment later, the woman her contact was talking about is nearby on an island off the Vacuo side of Sanus. Uninhabited or at least it was the last time Cornell checked. Although the sun was still bright clouds seemed to be coming from the north and despite everything an odd feeling started building within Cornell.

Once Cornell gets close to the island she is suprised to see that her scans have picked up a rather substantial base on the island equipped with large defensive batteries which although designed to fight grimm could still cause havoc on the Red Corsair's shields. The building itself is squat and utilitarian but there is no movement around the facility. A landing bay close to the main hanger is empty but strangly enough the Corsair would be the only craft on the island, no ships or air craft are visible on the Corsair's scans.

Saffron took a few minutes to prepare herself to meet with the headmaster. Washing up to get rid of the fish smell and got into her dress uniform as well as reapplying her makeup before finally, as confident as she was ever going to be to face the headmaster Saffron made her way to his office and went to knock on the door. Before she could, however, the door opened the person Saffron least wanted to see in her state, her mother Elizabeth Artemyeva, walked out. Snapping to a military salute and stepping out of her way. ‘Ma’am.’ Saffron said locking herself behind military protocol. Missing her daughter’s distress Elizabeth simply smiled and returned the salute before gesturing that they would talk later.

Not likely once this gets around. Saffron thought to herself bitterly as she went to knock again but the headmaster’s voice boomed out. ‘You may enter Ms de Cortez.’ Saffron complied and stiffly walked into the headmaster’s office then waited to be addressed again. Amarant Lovis, whose seventy years of life had only sharped his mind, did not address Saffron immediately. Instead, he rose from his seat and walked over to his student studying her silently. Saffron tried her best to remain calm and wait for permission but couldn’t endure the headmaster’s gaze for long and broke protocol. ’There was an incident at Alystra Plaza…’ Saffron began hurriedly before Amarant cut her off by raising his hand.

‘I know what happened at the Plaza.’ Amarant interrupted turning away from Saffron and moved towards one of the several artworks which surrounded the walls of his room and gestured for Saffron to follow. Stuttering as she followed Saffron tried to respond properly to Amarant’s seemingly impossible knowledge. ‘Do you know what this is?’ Amarant asked gesturing to a particular piece. It was a mask, looking like it was made out of stone decorated with semi-precious stones. ‘It… it’s a mask, sorry sir I don’t know its name but I know it’s from Menagerie. Now if I could…’ Saffron replied only to be once again interrupted by Amarant.

‘Yes no one knows their name, you can tell people took effort in its construction with the valuable materials and simply it surviving so long but they didn’t protect its name.’ Amarant continued turning back to face Saffron who met his gaze for a second before the latter breaking off instead studying the mask again. ‘Is this the kind of fate that you want Ms de Cortez?’ Saffron gasped slightly but managed to hold herself still. ‘No Sir.’ Saffron responded through gritted teeth. Amarant cocked his head at his student’s response as his eyes slightly glowed. Blinking a few times, the headmaster turned and made his way back to his desk. ‘So how are we going to stop that?’ Amarant asked coldly as he took his seat.

‘I’ll do better..’ Saffron began only to be interrupted by a harsh ‘How?’ Stuttering Saffron tried to continue ‘I’ll become a better leader..’ But she only managed to get a few words out before Amarant interrupted again. ‘How?’ Saffron was losing herself control, it wasn’t her fault, she didn’t choose this, what right did the headmaster have to treat her like this, why won’t he simply punish her and get it over with. ‘I’ll learn, I’ll try harder, I’ll….’ Saffron answered, her voice rising slightly as her emotions started to overflow. ‘So have you not been trying before this moment or have we simply not been teaching you.’ Amarant responded, calm as ever only the glow in his eyes started to come back.

'WHAT DO YOU WANT ME TO SAY? THAT I WOULD HAVE GONE ALONG WITH THE PLAN IF IT WOULD KEEP MY TEAMMATES OUT OF TROUBLE AND NOTHING IS GOING TO CHANGE THAT? THAT I DON’T HAVE CONTROL OF SALT BUT I DON’T WANT TO?’ Saffron screamed letting the emotion which had been building up since the incident loose. Her outburst had left her physically drained and it was in this pit of exhaustion that the reality of the situation hit home. ‘Sir… I’m sorry…. That was…There is no excuse.’ Saffron apologised profusely. Amarant was silent for a few moments and Saffron shuffled uncomfortably in the void. ‘You are right Ms de Cortez, there is no excuse. I appreciate your frankness and you coming to me. I’ll take it into consideration with your punishment. You can leave now…. And take the mask with you, for a reminder.’ Amarant finished turning his attention to the paperwork in front of him.

Saffron stood still, face downcast, for a few moments before wordlessly complying. Hefting the stone mask and made her way back to the team room. The whole interaction had taken less than a minute but had left Saffron shaking and exhausted beyond words. Leaving the mask by her bed the last thing Saffron wanted to do was wait around for her team to come back so she headed back out to the training arenas. Walking slowly out of the rooms and tried to get her mind off the day but her movements lacked any speed or determination to actually get her to that stage.

So yea the title already kinda says it. The current team is made out of glorious leader Setsuna Antiqua, the lovely Anna Fall and the not so lovely Calen Shrike. Personally the biggest thing for me is the 'T' thing but if you would like to join us could you also give a summary of how do you think interactions between your character and the rest of the established members.

Appearance: 6’4 tall and, with the exceptions of salt-and-pepper hair and a few wrinkles, Amarant shows little signs of age. His mind and body are kept in perfect shape and the students of Atlas often see their headmaster training with even full-fledged hunters struggling to keep up. Cold blue eyes usually covered by polarised sunglasses, an unflinching stare and a commanding voice adds legions to Amarant’s natural intimidating aura making him an imposing force even without his combat expertise. Skin free of tattoos or scars, one could be forgiven for thinking Amarant was a retired bodybuilder if they didn’t know him but he simply is, or was, that good.

Rarely seen out of his dress uniform, except when exercising, Amarant regulates his multiple medals to storage and instead only displays his rank and Atlas Insignia. In the rare case he is out of that uniform, his clothing is always formal, even his exercise uniform is high tech and professional. The armour he used to wear in combat appears to be standard Atlas light armour with a whole host of modifications. In his combat armour what stands out most is the trio of wings sprouting from his back, designed with heroic leadership in mind the emotional impact of being charged by Amarant has broken as many lines as his physical impact.

History: Amarant Lovis has a long, hard but mostly successful life so far in service of the Atlesian Kingdom. Born ten years after the then-Mantelen and Mistrali defeat Amarant was born into a Kingdom on the edge of ruin. Being on the losing side of the war had bankrupted their economy and the hate and fear of returning soldiers was only attracting more Grimm. The Academies had been established yes but it was going to take time for their graduates to be able to fully protect Solitas’ harsh tundra. Still the cold breeds proud people and they persisted. Lead at the time by Alexandria Sokolov, a veteran of the Greyed War, who lead a rebirth of then-Mantle through revolutionising the countries industry, government and most importantly military. Bringing their military might back to pre-Greyed War strength in a matter of decades. This was the atmosphere where Amarant was raised, a devout servant to a kingdom which valued strength, ingenuity and endurance in equal measure.

As a huntsman-in-training Amarant had already made a name for himself as an expert warrior even bring down a rogue Atlas huntsman, with the aid of his team, while still a student. More impressively he did it without drawing attention from the international community who were growing very suspicious of then-Mantle’s militarisation. His team ACCE run rampant through the Vytal festival through all four years of their time at the academy and in an unprecedented achievement took out the singles, doubles and team brackets. Amarant formed a tight bond with his teammates which has lasted even to this day with every member a part of the Academies staff in one way or another. It was also at the academy where Amarant started to learn under Alexandria herself who had taken up the position of headmistress after the kingdom had settled down. She had an enormous influence on Amarant, she took him under her wing and soon her highly disciplined and organised command style started to be heavily influence his own.

The only blotch on his record is the Faunus Revolution. With several of their factories attacked many in Atlas saw this ‘so-called-revolution’ as an attack against them by militants or worse foreign powers. As such many from Atlas joined to volunteer armies resisting the revolution lead by the ageing Alexandria Sokolov, Amarant and his team followed. In the beginning, there was little animosity against their Faunus opponents but as the war dragged on and thousands died that civility evaporated. Amarant however started to more and more respect his foe. Lacking in the technological superiority of the volunteer Altesian armies they made do with evasive tactics, never attacking full on unless a unit’s supplies had been cut and their leader taken out. Alexandra may have written the book on Atlas military strategy and turned them into the apex fighting force on Remnant but only when all the gears were working in unison. As such things went from bad to worse for Amarant and his allies and despite scoring several minor victories the volunteer forces were defeated at Fort Castle. Alexandra herself was killed in the fighting and without her leadership the army quickly vanished and the revolution was declared a success.

When his team and many Atlas forces were lost in the aftermath of the revolution it was Amarant who gathered them and put them to use. The hatred and despair were channelled into productive measures targeting Grimm nests or bandit tribes to ensure Atlas would never be weak like it was after the Greyed War. Putting aside the loss of his mentor and many friends was difficult and caused a lot of people to question the value Amarant placed in them. And in a way, they were right to. Amarant may have fought in the trenches alongside them but to him, even his team, where weapons made to be used. This did not make him wastefully however and over time Amarant managed to convince many to see things his way although he still has fierce arguments with his team mates to this day.

Regardless of how much good this roving band doing it was not a sustainable operation. Atlas had proven twice now that their military could not be trusted and as such sanctions where put in place limiting it’s numbers. It was here that Amarant floated the idea of the Atlas Specialists. The line infantry could be retrained but fighters with hunter-level skill needed a support network and meaning in their lives. The specialist program could provide them that and more importantly for the board of generals it allowed Atlas to keep it’s most powerful fighters and could even start expanding when automated droids started to become more common while still abiding by the international regulations. For Amarant however, it wasn’t about the prestige of the Atlas military it was about providing support for his allies as well as filling the gap in Alexandria’s strategies. The value of individual, highly trained operatives working in conjunction with the entire might of the Atlesian military could not be overestimated and under Amarant’s guidance it’s deployment became an art form.

Amarant then served two decades in the newly formed Atlas Specialists, eventually taking command of the unit and quickly became the public face for this new initiative. The other Kingdoms clearly saw what Atlas was trying to do, getting around their sanctions, but there wasn’t enough political will to force anything with Mistral dragging it’s heels. With this semi-acceptance the Atlas Specialists forged themselves a reputation to match those of hunters, at least in their home land. Even Faunus started to want to join the organisation. Originally Amarant was sceptical; it was one thing to respect these people as fighters, it’s another completely to call them brother and sister. The White Fang was also on the rise and radical elements were already attacking Atlas facilities, which the Specialists were proving themselves capable at defeating, but also using the facilities like Atlas academy itself to train their operatives. Still Amarant decided to admit a single Faunus, more as a political move to show how far the Atlas military had come.

Initially only allowed on the most simply missions the Faunus proved himself over and over again to the point even veterans of the revolutionary war begrudgingly started to accept him. It was here, late in life, where Amarant discovered his true great passion in teaching others. Amarant took the Faunus under his wing just as Alexandria took him all those years ago and moulded him into one of the finest weapons in his arsenal. Blessed with a worthy successor Amarant started to think about the next stage of his life, he was getting old, ‘old, slow and dumb’ he would joke and the extended run of peace seemed to suggest he would better serve as in a support role. As such he decided to resign from his position as commander of the Specialists, instating his protegee before so, then walked into the academy and applied for a job. The teachers at Atlas Academy where surprised to say the least by Amarant quickly proved himself as capable off the battlefield as he was on in.

It became apparent that although Amarant was capable of bring out the best of individuals under his direct tutelage he struggled with larger classes. His focus on perfection lead him to often pace his lessons around the brightest in the class rather than the average creating some extremely capably hunters, or more likely Specialists, but also pushed many out of the academy as they simply fell behind. Amarant’s colleagues brought this up to him but try as he might he simply couldn’t evolve his teaching technique. As such he was moved to a more specialist role, providing final stage training to those who had already proven themselves. Amarant developed this program into an official system by the time the Atlas headmaster stepped down and as such Amarant was considered the likely replacement. This was due more to his international presence and fame rather than teaching experience but he still had the full support of the teaching staff.

Amarant has only served as headmaster for four years during which he has institutionalised his specialist training regime and ramped up the militarisation of it’s general training. Large focus is put in maintaining teams after graduation even if they don’t go into the Specialists with military protocol drilled in as soon as students enter the gate. Amarant is aware how this looks to the outside world and his argument that it generates superior fighters would be ignored even though it’s his genuine belief. As such Amarant has spent a lot of time on the international stage trying to convince the world of his way of doing things. He has even made trips to Menagerie, a field day for the press, but it was only the start of increased direct investment by Atlas into the Faunus state in a perhaps overly optimistic attempt to unite the two peoples. Even if the diplomatic angle fails these ventures are still profitable for Atlas businesses and allows them to get their claws into Menageries developing economy.

Personality: A calm and collected individual Amarant approaches everything in life like a campaign and he is the general. Polite and respectful even towards his enemies Amarant sees everyone in Atlas, himself included, as a weapon to be used against the Kingdom’s enemies, this can make him seem manipulative and technically he is but everything he does is in service to his people. Never one to act rashly Amarant often held back his assaults until he had as much information as possible and could devastate his opposition in a single blow. Again, life has immense value to him but that value is calculable and although Amarant often took the field himself he also knew when to cut his losses. Possessing a dry wit Amarant jokes surprisingly often but due to his intimidating presence and professional demeanour they are often missed.

Art and language are Amarant’s personal past times. He speaks over a dozen languages, some which are only spoken by a handful of academics in today’s mostly mono-language society. A meaningless skill mostly it still speaks to Amarant desire to understand the world he inhabits and how to most exploit it for the benefit of Atlas. Because of his semblance Amarant gets a lot out of art, knowing why the artist makes every brush stroke adds a huge amount of meaning to even the most simplistic artwork. There is also a practical function, artists are products of their times and culture with even the most divergent a product of their homeland. As such Amarant maintains a steadily expanding collection pieces from across the globe, each giving him an insight into their home unique to them.

Amarant has had a long and bloody history with Faunus, earlier in his life with the revolution and more recently with the terrorist White Fang. Despite all this Amarant has never been able to hate them, even when his team mates fell into that trap, as when confronted by the most horrific acts Amarant’s semblance showed him why and what drove people to commit such crimes. That doesn’t mean he has a loving relationship with remnant's second species, never being able to properly mourn the death of his mentor has left psychological scars which will probably never heal. This combined with rising tension with the White Fang has left Amarant is highly sceptical of most Faunus until they earn his trust, a difficult feat in itself, after which they are rewarded with being another, slightly political, weapon in his arsenal.

As for personal relationships Amarant tries as hard as he can to keep it separate from his professional life, a habit he picked up while fighting White Fang insurgents. He is still a target but has a lot more security for both himself and his loved ones. All the members of ACCE are still alive and fulfil various roles at Atlas Academy in their own right, it would be impractical and pointless to hide that they are still on friendly terms despite want maybe said when they drink. As for love, rumours abound about hidden meet ups on battlefields or other romanticised rubbish but the truth is Amarant has been married to the job since before the revolution and it’s demands have only grown since. Other than that Amarant keeps on friendly terms with many of his Specialists as well as a few international figures. There is no doubt that he is a controversial figure but his calm and apparently open demeanour make him difficult to hate if you have regular interactions with the man.

A journalist once called him a Machiavellian Centaur and although Amarant laughed the comment off it does have some merit. Although he is no longer officially a member of the military, he does retain his rank as a symbolic gesture, even his most calm requests possibly carry serious threats of force behind them. Mastering the fusion between being loved and feared just as the centaur fused man and animal has always been a reality of Amarant’s command style. But in the end this is just another avenue of attack and Amarant combines fear, love and rational pleas just has he combines the three arms of the military to achieve his aims.

Aura and Semblance: As one would expect from a veteran warrior of the highest calibre Amarant has an enormous pool of aura reserves to draw on. Preferring, like in all things, to use his resources offensively and as such is more skilled at augmenting his attacks or created shock waves than defending or healing himself. It’s colour is Navy Blue but that colour leaches out of it the more Amarant uses his abilities leaving it a just before it bursts. harsh white.

As for his semblance, epitomising his analytical nature, Amarant is capable of understand why a choice is made with a glance. This include non-living things like artwork or plant growth as well as unnatural things like Grimm or robotics. He only understands why the studied action takes place not every minor activity the individual is undergoing, such would result in an information overload. Nor can he study more than one action at a time. Still this enormously powerful predictive tool makes Amarant almost unbeatable in one on one combat if he can match his opponents raw physical abilities. Strategist’s Eye as he calls it takes very little of Amarant’s reserves to deploy but Amarant considers it invasive to others privacy to keep it constantly active. Still Amarant does hesitate to use it when he is confronted with something unusual or unexplained, privacy comes secondary to safety in his mind. When in use his eyes slightly glow the same colour as his aura but it’s faint and hard to see unless you know what to look for. As for people who know exactly what his semblance is Amarant has been quite lucky and managed to keep the exact specifics limited exclusive to his team. The general idea, being some sort of enhanced analysis based semblance, is an open secret in the Atlas military.

Combat Behaviour: In his youth Amarant was one of the greatest warriors Atlas had to offer. Specialised in rabid strikes and vicious counterattacks Amarant made his fame in using his enemies strengthens against them. As he has gotten older his speed has faded somewhat, particularly the speed of his sword, but luckily his wings are as fast as ever. Linked as part of his armour these bladed wings are linked to Amarant’s nervous system through experimental surgery and as such hasn’t slowed down as he aged. These four blades can set up a furious pace of blows, three of which are mechanically augmented. This combined with Amarant’s predictive abilities makes this assault extremely difficult to resist. Even without his semblance having four angles of assault plus the dust vents in his armour allow him to deal with hoards effectively.

There is a risk using his wings as offensive weapons however, the damage of even one can greatly reduce his mobility. Mobility adds a large amount of adaptability to Amarant’s style and this hasn’t changed as he aged. Lacking some of the overwhelming strength of other hunters Amarant needs that mobility to get through defences to bring his razor edges to bare. The three wings also give him a seemingly erratic flight pattern which makes him hard to hit at range. An advantageous ability given his limited range options and habit of making a target out of himself. The most effective way to bring Amarant down would be surprise, he can fly with his own wings so overwhelming physical assault or explosives would be the best bet. Mental trickery would also be effective but due to his analytical prowess even without his semblance Amarant his capable of seeing through most illusions. Amarant does also carry a large amount of dust on his person and although his armour has precautions against it exploding they aren’t fail-safe.

Although not specifically part of his combat behaviour it is worth noting that Amarant makes a large effort to gather as much information on anyone who could be a threat. This includes his own Atlas students as well as notable hunters-in-training across the globe. Amarant’s uncanny perceptive abilities have created a rumour that Atlas Academy or at least the students are under constant surveillance, again this is mostly true although Amarant does try to ensure at least some privacy to his students. This concept of knowledge is power has caused Amarant to deploy these surveillance devices almost everywhere he goes. This has left all academies and several foreign military bases bugged and feeding Intel to Atlas.

WEAPONS

Weapon 1

Name: First day of Winter

Primary Form: A standard Zweihander, 6’(1.8m) and 9.5lbs(4kg), complete with parrying hooks and a wide curved upwards cross guard depicting two mechanical arms. The metal is well-wrought and several names are carved along the blade of the weapon. The blade also possessing a tiny computer system only having the capacity to adjust the cross guard to grab weapons being parried and record Amarant’s fights with a 360 degree camera so he can learn from them later.

Secondary Form: The First day of Winter collapses into a forth of it’s size and the cross guards fold in. The makes the weapon far more easy to transport over long distances or while flying.

Dust Functions: The sword has it’s reservoir of dust but can connect to Amarant’s armour to either use the armour’s reservoir or add to it. The First day of Winter has a small reserve, enough for three uses, of all major forms of dust. Most of these manifest like fire, ice or electric as blasts from the tip while others like gravity dust can repulse or attract objects to the weapon.

History: Original Alexandria Sokolov’s weapon and Amarant took it after leading a counter attack to reclaim her body after their defeat at Fort Castle. The weapon has remained mostly the same since it was wielded by his mentor except for two major aspects. For one the names of friends how have fallen in battle are carved into the blade. An emotional weak point for Amarant the weapon is one of the few things that can consistently force illogical actions. The second major change is a small computer system was added to the weapon.

Weapon 2

Name: The Wings of the Mountain

Primary Form: A set of three wings which sprout from a large cylinder on his back. The cylinder fits snug into his armour plates and starts at the back of his neck and goes ¾ down his back. At the base of Amarant’s neck is the opening to his spinal socket and as such surrounded by thick armour plates. The wings themselves are around 1.5m, 5’, from tip to bend or around 5m fully extended. The whole set up weighs around 20kg, 44lbs, which is a lot for an old man to carry. Luckily while attached to him, and particularly in the air, it feels a lot lighter but it isn’t something that Amarant is going to bring out unless he knows there is going to be a fight. With a max speed well below supersonic and only with a couple hours of flight time The Wings of the Mountain are not a transporting device and instead epitomise Amarant’s reliance on technology, preference for fast paced combat and heroic leadership.

Dust Functions: The Wings of the Mountain has the same dust functions as The First Day of Winter, the sword, except it has a much larger supply of dust contained in its cylinder. The dust is emitted from the back of the wing and Amarant can send dust from only to one wing if he desires. Most of this is a combination of gravity and wind dust which allows for Amarant’s flight but it contains enough of the other major dust types for 10 uses itself or add 20 uses to either the sword or armour. Amarant is reluctant to draw on the dust The Wings of the Mountain uses for fuel for offence and would rather right without dust than reduce his mobility. 10 uses equals around 30 minutes of flight in normal conditions.

History: Created for Amarant personally when he created the Atlas Specialists and ensured he would reduce the impact of inter-kingdom regulation has on the weapon manufacturing businesses in Atlas. Taking advantage of experimental nerve grafting technology the Wings of the Mountain are a marvel of technology and even to this day is matched only by the gear other Atlas Specialists are using. Despite the possibility for an upgrade Amarant has grown accustomed to this Mark of the technology and since departing military life has seen little need to remain ahead of the curve technologically.

Weapon 3

Name: The Tundric Guard

Primary Form: Highly modified Altesian light armour the Tundric Guard is as much another weapon as it is Amarant’s last line of defence. The already light armour plates have been made hollow and filled with entwining funnels of foam and dust. Golden trim and the Atlas insignia emblazoned on his chest and shoulders mark Amarant clearly even if the wings didn’t already do that. The armour plates interlock providing maximum protection while not infringing on mobility. It’s better than bare skin but the Tundric Guard will not hold up to sustained punishment from even medium sized Grimm let alone major threats.

Dust Functions: Like the First day of Winter and the Wings of the Mountain the Tundric Guard contains it’s own reservoir of dust but it also contains a large amount of foam in case of armour breaches. This foam fulfils the double purpose of preventing dust igniting if a dust funnel is breached when the armour is as well as providing a redundant last line of defence. This foam, and the dust, can be emitted through various vents all along the armour. Most plates have at least three vents but hands, forearms and lower legs have the most.

History: The Tundric Guard has been with Amarant since he was a huntsman-in-training in one way or another. Undergoing multiple and frequent upgrades or remodelling when deployed in different environments. Not concerned with the Theseus's ship implications with his armour Amarant finds himself the least passionate about this addition to his arsenal. He still keeps it cleaned and ready go despite his advanced age like any good Altesian. Perhaps it’s because he has never had to rely on its plates or simply being resources spent of defence still annoys Amarant the Tundric Guard remains a valuable addition to his armoury.

It had been a few weeks after the Switcheroo fights in which, amongst other things, Calen was beaten to a bloodied pulp. It took serveral operations for all the bone fragments to be retrieved from inside his chest and reconstruct his ribs and knee. Finally Calen was going to start the long and painful process of physical rehabilitation. Aura and Diana's assistance rapidly increased his healing he would need to start moving soon to ensure everything healed where it's supposed to. It would be pure agony but what was truly irritating Calen was the hospital food. Having far more choice words for the bland and unappetising food than the relentless surgeries Calen had already managed to get himself quite the reputation among the hospital staff.

The nurses had left after a particularly bad morning session from Calen finishing with him being moved to the recovery section. Any pretence or mask of control had long since shattered leaving a hurt and bitter boy. He knew it wasn't their fault, it was only his own, but it still felt so good to rage self-righteously even if everyone knew how empty his words were. Taking a few deep breaths Calen settled himself into his routine. Playing back the fight with Gray Calen carefully analysed his mistakes mistakes in the fight and hypothesised solutions. After finding the same as the last 26 times he did this exercise Calen started on his school work. Weeks of being unable to attend classes would have normally put a student behind but for Calen working independently meant he could finally stretch him mental legs. Full months ahead of prescribed content Calen simply kept pushing forward because there was nothing else to do.

Well. Calen thought to himself wriggling his toes. If I'm supposed to start physical recovery might as well start walking. As such Calen swung his body round, knocking his school materials all over the place, and gingerly placed his feat on the ground. The infuriating pins and needles which had been plaguing him since the fight started to fade as his naked feet touched the cold floor. Taking confidence Calen stood, placing all his weight on his good leg, and besides a little light headedness he was fine. All was going well until Calen put any weight on the limb. Pain shot through his leg causing Calen to almost buckle on to the ground. Instead taking in another few deep breathes as he collapsed back on the bed.

Desperately trying to hold his screams in Calen tried to distract himself by looking at the other patients in the recovery ward. Beacon didn't get as many injured as Calen had expected but there was always a few around and more out getting tests. Whatever state Calen was in there was no way he was going to be screaming in pain in front of other unless a limb was being removed. Settling down Calen hid his now throbbing knee under the covers and retrieved the closest text book. Mentally preparing himself for the earful his physiotherapist when they saw the results of that stunt.

Throwing the book away, only narrowly missing one of the other beds, Calen called out 'So what do you guys do for run around here? Are there weekly dances? or maybe movie nights?' Sarcasm dripped off Calen's words as he searched for someone to vent against before his thoughts had too much time with him on their own.